FwB (one shot)
by boogerbleep
Summary: Butch and Buttercup are best friends, maybe more. Whenever Buttercup needs him, she knows where to find him. He leaves his window open just for her. One shot. Note: this is just me exploring Butch and Buttercup's dynamic, in my AU I have a head canon that Buttercup frequently climbs through Butch's window in the middle of the night and wanted to write about it :-)


The gravel broke apart under Buttercup's feet, splitting apart and crumbling under her heavy footsteps as she walked down the empty streets. She had walked this path so many times, on different occasions, for all different reasons. In the beginning, she remembered being so focused on all the twists and turns. She took in all the little details that would help her find her way.

The broken down pickup truck under the weeping willow meant turn right, the pond echoing with the ribbits of frogs meant keep going straight, the tire swing meant cross the street, and to walk straight until the path began to wind and go uphill. Once you pass the yellow townhouse with the blue door, barricaded by an absurd amount of tacky garden gnomes, you knew you were halfway up the hill.

However, her mind no longer had to focus on recognizing these signs. She had walked this route over a billion times, maybe even literally, and now she relied on mere muscle memory to get to her destination. But still, the garden gnomes continued to creep her out to this day. She felt their eerie presence as she passed them, quickening her pace. She would never hear the end of it if either her sisters or the boys were to find out her secret fear.

The street lamps flickered around her, the warmth of the yellow light illuminating the way. Usually, she would have found comfort in the night that swarmed her. She liked being alone, and the night time gave her the perfect opportunity for solitude. No awkward _Hellos _and _How have you beens_, and her least favorite _My! Look how you've grown!_ She grimaced at the thought of it. Being known worldwide as the "Badass Green Super-Girl" was both a "blessing and a curse" according to Blossom. To Buttercup, it was simply a curse. Social interactions made her queasy, the idea of being idolized confused her as much as it irritated her. She wasn't as sociable, desirable, or _marketable_ as her sisters, but she didn't mind. She didn't want the attention, she never did and never will. At night, she didn't have to worry about bumping into anyone, no one stared or gawked at her, and she was left alone. Stray dogs scurried past her, not caring at all about who she was or what she was doing. The streets were empty and the moonlight shone down on her raven black hair. In the dark, her tan skin and jet black hair blended into the night. Invisible, she felt the most comfortable.

The gritty sound of car tires against pavement filled the air as someone drove past, the vehicle moved so close to her that she could almost feel the metal brushing past her arm. No one could see her and she liked it.

Usually, the darkness calmed her nerves, but tonight all she felt was agitation. The leaves, the cars, the lights, all contributed to her bad mood. It was just too loud, too bright, too much for her liking. The feelings boiled up inside her and collected in her chest, big and heavy. Some nights, an insidious cycle of bad thoughts circulated in her mind and she found herself drowning.

A trash can was pulled too far out into the street for her liking, and she pummeled it over, soda cans and compost flying behind her. The dogs began to bark and she threw her hand into her pocket to raise the volume of her music. If she couldn't drown out her thoughts, she would at least drown out everything else around her.

She could see it ahead of her. The little beige townhouse at the top of the hill. It was August, and the Christmas lights of last year strung lazily around it, half of them with the bulbs blown out. A sloppy "X" spray painted on the front door, 3 lawn chairs out in the front, one of them missing a leg and toppling over. A wave of familiarity washed over her and she could feel her body soften. Her heart beat a little faster as she picked up her pace. Buttercup broke into a sprint, picking enough momentum to propel herself onto the roof of the SUV parked in front of the driveway. She pushed her feet into the already dented roof of the car, shooting up and grabbing onto the windowsill on the 2nd story. Honestly, she could have just floated up, but this was more fun, and in his words, this form of entry was even better because then she had to "work a little harder just to see him", which made things a little more special.

He had left the window just a tiny bit open, just enough for her to slip her finger in and push it all the way up. Buttercup pulled herself in, the smell of Febreze, sweat, and ash blasting her in the face, nearly knocking her back and out the window.

The numbers 3:34 glowed in a fluorescent green on his desk, his alarm clock blinked menacingly as if it were taunting her about her awful insomnia. The illumination was just enough for her to see his face under the covers. His bushy brows furrowed together, lips pursed. The air was hot in his room, so his cheeks were flushed. Sleeping, he looked like an angry baby. The whir of the fan next to his nightstand strategically drowned out the noise that seeped in from Boomer's room, because for some reason the guy couldn't sleep without music playing. Buttercup slipped off her chucks before tossing them onto the floor. They landed in a pile of magazines and clothes, and the black mound that was his silhouette twitched as he awakened. She touched her feet to the cold hardwood, struggling to pull the window down behind her as the old windowsill screeched with defiance.

Buttercup moved towards him. He had already scooted towards the wall to give her room.

"Butch," she whispered, "I want the wall."

He groaned before moving back towards the edge of the bed, "You always get the wall." He fired back, voice raspy. His forest green eyes glared at her menacingly before softening and then closing as he laid his head back, and extending his arm to her as an invitation to have the space next to him, closest to the wall.

"The Buttercup inside your head's being mean to you?" He asked after a small bit of silence.

She climbed over him, cradling into the space between his body and the wall. His arm draped around her shoulders like a security blanket, and she finally let out a sigh of relief. The heaviness drifted out of her, slipping out the window. She imagined it being carried by the wind far, far away from her.

"Yep."

"Tomorrow we can go to the dump and find plates to smash." He said, his voice nearly inaudible. He was falling asleep and she knew that. She would miss him, she wanted to be around him just a little bit more. Just a tiny bit more.

Buttercup pressed her cold feet against his bare legs.

"Gross!" He groaned, yanking his legs away, "Do that again and you're sleeping out on the lawn," he warned, now fully awake. He turned his head towards her before gently smooshing his forehead against hers, playfully head butting her.

She bit his nose and he pulled away before head butting her for real.

"BUTCH!" She yelped, half laughing and half yelling.

He was trying hard to stifle his own laughter, "Shhh!" He said, clasping his hand on her mouth.

At that moment, they both felt a hard thump beneath them, hard enough for the bed to rise an inch and come crashing down.

"Oh shit," he whispered ever so quietly, "we woke Brick up." But now, they were laughing even harder, both of them choking and red, throats dry and aching from holding back their laughs.

Butch laughed so hard that he accidentally spit in Buttercup's eye, which made Buttercup swat him in the face. Both of them lay in bed laughing, looking at each other and smiling so big that their cheeks and bellies hurt.

Another bang came from the other side of the room, some of Butch's CDs falling off his shelf. Boomer must have been woken up too, but they thought it was even funnier than Brick and so they laughed for a whole other 10 minutes before their giggles finally dissipated. Soon, they were just two warm lumps under the sheets, stuck together like two pieces of cookie dough baked too close together.

Butch mumbled something into Buttercup's hair but she didn't understand. She was too tired to ask him to repeat himself, so she stayed quiet and pulled his arm over her. As he clutched her closer, the exhaustion that had been pushed aside by her anxieties suddenly enclosed and her eyes began to droop. Buttercup pushed out a small sigh of relief. Around Butch, she felt safe. All her problems and all she feared seemed so small, so far away. With him, nothing could hurt her. The warmth of his body and the feeling of his cheek pressed against the nape of her neck was the comfort she had seeked for so long.

"Did you hear me?" his voice pierced through the darkness. She was falling asleep, but his question pulled her back just enough to answer.

"No."

"I said I'm glad you're here."

With the last bit of her energy, she smiled. She could feel her heart swelling in her chest.

"Me too."

"You're safe here."

"I know."


End file.
